"Tell me, where was the wounded man taken? Where is he now?"
"Shall be Duke one day," mumbled the old woman.
"Where is he?"
"Ah!" she said, not sharply, but in a long drawn out sound almost like the hiss of a snake.
"Quick, or we will find means to make you speak."
"You can"t, curse you."
"We"ll tie her to a tree," said Herrick. "I know the method of it, and there is no need for care that the rope is loose at her throat."
Two of the men moved forward as though to seize her and carry her out.
"Curse you, let me be," she tried to scream, but the words were only a whistle. "If I tell, what then?"
"We make no bargain."
"You--you--curse you!"
"Out with her to the tree," said Herrick, and one of the men bent down, and touched her.
"I"ll tell--I"ll tell."
"Quickly then."
"Simon sold him to the enemy," the old woman said--"the enemy that"s now on the way to make carrion of such as you. He"s dead, or if he isn"t he"s safe in a tower by the frontier close to Larne, and you"ll never get him, curse you."
"I know the place, sir," whispered one of the men. "She may be speaking the truth."
The hag had closed her eyes again, but after a few seconds she opened them, and in that short interval she seemed to have forgotten all that had gone before. She started, as though for the first time she realized that men were looking down at her, and she began to curse them in a long string of foul oaths which were truly appalling.
Herrick thought she must be shamming sickness, for she suddenly raised herself almost into a sitting posture, and pointing at him with her long, skeleton hand, let loose all the vials of her vituperation upon him, promising him a h.e.l.l here and d.a.m.nation of the most horrible and fantastic kind hereafter.
"Duke!--Liar!" she screamed, and her voice was strong for an instant.
"Duke!--curse you--wounded man--fates--some day--curse!"
The words were in a descending scale, the last a mere whisper, and then her body heaved as if she would spring to her feet. The next moment she fell backward with a thud--dead!
Herrick turned away with a shudder. Such a death was horrible.
"The world"s well rid of her," said Briant.
"Bury her presently," said Herrick to the charcoal-burners. "G.o.d knows her history, and shall judge her. Bury her out of the beaten track, and deeply, and then if you will, follow us toward Larne. Montvilliers has need of every stalwart son she has given birth to."
They were soon riding through the forest again, Pierre Briant and his men with them. Herrick rode alone a little in advance, and the old hag"s doggerel was singing in his ears. Her last disjointed words were evidently an attempt to repeat the rhyme. It was well that the soldiers knew nothing of the circ.u.mstances under which it had first been spoken, or they might have been superst.i.tious enough to look upon him as a leader foredoomed to failure.
Toward evening they came to the rendezvous, and the sight put new spirit into Herrick. The n.o.bles had responded to his appeal in a manner far beyond his greatest hopes. Many of them had come themselves to the meeting-place bringing all the men they could, and others had sent men. Herrick found his army greatly increased.
There came forward to meet him the old n.o.ble who had spoken in the great hall that night, and Herrick dismounted to receive him.
"Sir, there was only one way of answering your appeal," said the old man. "It was worthy of a Duke. My arm is not so strong as it was, but there is still too much energy in it to stay at home when every good man is of service."
"I thank you," Herrick answered. "You shall find me as ready to fulfil my part of the bargain when we return in peace."
"Sir, I know you for a true man, and if I return you shall find me amongst your friends."
Not all met him in this generous fashion, but they were all willing to follow him in the defence of their country.
"With such loyalty, who can dream of failure?" said Herrick. "In Vayenne yonder, they have whispered that the n.o.bles of Montvilliers were in league with the enemy. It was a false report. Surely there can be few in the land."
"And they may be in the city," said one.
Herrick would not believe such a thing.
"Their quarrel was with me," he said, "that is a different matter to treachery toward their country. We march at dawn. See to it, Lemasle.
Not yet is Montvilliers to fall a prey to her enemies."
A great shout welcomed his words, but Herrick"s heart was heavy that night in spite of all. Were there traitors in Vayenne, subtle and powerful enough to make terms with the enemy? Who were they? Felix? De Bornais? Christine? Did she hate him so much, that to punish him she would sacrifice her country? And all night he lay awake, thinking not of the task before him, but of the woman he loved.
CHAPTER XXII
THE DWARF"S APPEAL
Jean"s face and manner were more sadly at variance with his gaudy attire than ever. He barely had a jest for anyone, and earned the opinion that he was a dull fool after all. He spent many lonely hours on the battlements of the West Tower, and for days he did not go outside the castle. In the body he was in Vayenne, in spirit he was with the Duke and his st.u.r.dy fighters on the frontier, and sometimes with his bauble for sword he would make savage pa.s.ses at an imaginary enemy.
It was not long before rumors, conflicting and uncertain, began to find their way to Vayenne. It was whispered that many of the n.o.bles had gone to fight side by side with the Duke, but this was not generally believed. Father Bertrand had denied it, and was it not well known that the first and best information always came to the house in the Rue St. Romain? Then came rumors of battles, of victory, and defeat. The Duke had driven the enemy back, said one report; he had been defeated with great loss, and was in full retreat, said another.
Jean wondered where the truth lay, and noted that Vayenne was preparing for the worst. The gates were shut, few were permitted to pa.s.s in and out of the city, military discipline was everywhere. De Bornais was ready to resist a siege. Then for a while no news came. It was a time of anxious waiting in the city, and many there were who started at any unusual commotion in the streets or in the castle, their real hopes and fears known only to their own hearts. Suddenly came news of fierce conflict in the vicinity of Larne. The Duke had suddenly attacked a stronghold there, on the other side of the frontier; and that the men of Montvilliers had shown splendid courage, had proved themselves worthy of their forefathers, seemed certain, but the issue was not known. Some said the Duke had fallen as he led the attack, and something of regret was in the hearts of those most ready to plot against him. At any rate he was a man.
"Is it true that the Duke is dead?" asked Lucille, coming hastily into Christine"s room.
"Who says so?" Christine asked, rising suddenly from her chair, the color going from her cheeks.
"They are saying so in the court-yard, mademoiselle."
"Go, Lucille, quickly, find de Bornais, and send him to me."
De Bornais came presently.
"Is it true?" she asked.
"I know nothing certainly," was the answer, "beyond the fact that there has been heavy fighting. There is no doubt of that, and Roger Herrick is not the man to stay in a place of safety."
"No. He would be in the front of it all. I am sure of that."